


White Lies and Tiny Truths

by Sziondaisy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:46:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sziondaisy/pseuds/Sziondaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scope and Rewind are long term partners, they met before the war when they were both classed as disposable. </p>
<p>When Scope gets sent on a mission to join the DJD, he has to learn how to live without Rewind while simultaneously keeping up the act of being a loyal Decepticon. </p>
<p>It started off as a 'five times X happened and one time it didn't' kind of fic but mutated into something else. Really it's just an excuse to write my favourite crack pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Lies and Tiny Truths

'It's going to be ok.'

Scope repeated Rewind's words to himself over and over again, muttering them under his breath in a childlike attempt to convince himself that his decision had been the right choice. Perhaps if his fears were as childish as sparkeaters hiding in the dark then his matra may have worked in chasing them away, but Scope's monsters were real, tangible beasts and he was willingly walking into their den. 

Out of the window of the space port, Scope could see the small ship that had dropped him off pulling away from the docking station. He watched, motionless in a sea of rushing mechs, as the ship got smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing into inky black vastness of space and taking with it, his freedom. 

Scope couldn’t tear himself from the window and found himself pressed against it, hands splayed out on the cold, thick glass, reaching for the unattainable. It was all he had as he clung to the impossible hope that the mission would be called off and the ship would return for him. 

Shoved roughly from behind and jerked from his thoughts, Scope spun on the mech, cruel words on the tip of his tongue, but the mech was gone, lost in the crowd. Begrudgingly letting it go, he headed for the large waiting area and found himself a quiet place to sit and reread some of the datapads he'd brought with him. 

The science pads were his refuge, drawing his mind away from the horrors he would soon be facing. Predictable, safe science with it's rules and solved mysteries. Perceptor had taught him well.

He spent days in the space port, sharing his time between a tiny recharge cubicle that charged by the hour and the quiet spot in the uncomfortable waiting area. The rendezvous with the DJD had been set up for the day after his arrival, three days passed and there was still no sign of them. While he hated the wait, his spark lifted with the hope the DJD weren’t going to arrive at all. Maybe the DJD had found a new Vos and he could go home. 

No such luck. 

On the evening of the third day, while Scope sat at the table drinking energon and reading a newspad, a large, purple mech sat opposite him and Scope's spark dropped. Although not the largest of mechs – not small to say the least, but certainly not the largest he'd seen – Tarn was imposing and his voice sent shivers through Scope’s wiry frame. That was the point, Scope realised too late, having already let himself look unintentionally weak by jerking back in his chair at the intrusion to his space. It was a test then? To see his reaction or judge how well he’d fit in. Scope wasn’t sure which was better.

Setting the datapad down gently, Scope steeled himself and looked up, now was the time to find out how right Rewind was in his research of the DJD. /You’re very late,/ he said, looking Tarn over critically and deciding it was best to jump straight in and prove he wasn't going to be pushed around and intimidated, despite his worries, /I thought the DJD had rules about that./

A moment of silence and then Tarn laughed, the sound light and friendly. The sound so wrong coming from a mech known for torturing mechs in violent and creative ways. A feared mech who sounded...friendly. The juxtaposition between those two things brought a scowl to Scope's frame, his optics narrowing at Tarn. /That amuses you?/

Tarn quieted, a smile visible through the gap in his mask as he leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table, deliberately getting into Scope's personal space to draw a reaction. /Yes, actually it does,/ he replied, not willing to offer any explanation.

Scope's optics narrowed at the larger mech. Anger burned in spark, fuelled by nervous adrenaline, Scope kept it on a tight leash, he'd always had a hot temper and it wouldn't do him any good to lose it now. /So what now?/

Tarn watched as the smaller mech leaned forward, arms crossed on the table to mimic his own. He decided he liked his choice, there had been a few mechs on the shortlist to join his team, but ‘Trigger’ was the first of the mechs he’d met who really peaked his interest. A flawless record on the battlefield and a scientist to boot, Trigger would be an excellent addition to the DJD. There was something endearing about the rifle and his refusal to be intimidated, something Tarn would enjoy having around - in small doses. 

\--------

'It's going to be ok', Scope told himself as he followed Tarn into the control room where the other three members of the DJD were waiting to meet him. It seemed he’d impressed Tarn during their meeting, his knowledge of the Decepticon cause tested and deemed impressive. They’d talked about the start of the war and the oppression rampant under the Senate. Tarn listened with rapt attention to Scope’s stories of being Disposable class and living as a slave.

Thanks to Rewind’s late night cram sessions, Scope easily passed Tarn’s test and for that he was thankful. If not a little proud of himself.

The file Tarn had on ‘Trigger’ was a meticulously crafted web of lies, carefully researched to stand up under any amount of scrutiny. Trigger was an exceptional Decepticon with a flawless record. All the DJD had read his file, Scope wasn’t surprised at that, but Tarn had memorised it word for word. ‘I have questions,’ Tarn said as they walked, ‘I would love to hear how you ended up on the Gladiator’s Revenge.’ 

Scope shrugged, /there’s not much to say, I wasn’t there long. Lord Megatron visited the ship after I left so I can’t tell you what it was like to meet him./

“You can tell me everything over a cube later,” Tarn replied, unwilling to drop the subject completely.

Scope said nothing, he knew his story well enough to pass an interrogation. Tarn didn’t frighten him...at least not that way. 

Inside the control room, the three mechs turned to greet their leader and meet Vos’ replacement. Tarn introduced each member in turn, Kaon, list keeper and communications expert. Helex and Tesarus, the ‘muscle’ and finally, Sparky, Kaon’s pet. 

/It’s nice to finally meet you all,/ Scope lied, /I look forward to working with you to further the cause./

Tesarus took an instant dislike to their new addition, his lips tight in a scowl. “This is the new Vos? He’s just a twig.”

Scope wasn’t offended by the implication he was weak and underpowered, mech’s had underestimated him his whole life. There was more the fighting that pure power and Scope was fast, agile and brutal when he needed to be. He hadn’t survived as long as he had on luck. He would have told Tesarus that too if Tarn hadn’t quieted the larger mech with a single look.

Kaon was more friendly, probably secretly pleased he wasn’t the smallest anymore, and reached out to shake hands. “I’m sure you’ll make the name your own,” the orange mech said through a smile, “you’ll just have to be creative.” 

/I’m sure you’ll find my work exemplary,/ Scope replied as he shook Kaon’s hand, /and creative. I’ll do the name proud./ 

Helex said nothing and left with Tesarus on his heels. As they walked down the hallway, Scope heard Tesarus, ‘I just expected a rifle, not a pistol.’

Scope did take offence at that. 

Apparently Tarn heard it too, judging by the way he squared his shoulders and looked to Kaon, “Kaon, take Trigger to his room so he can set his equipment down. We’ll swear him into the DJD tonight.”

Kaon nodded and took Scope’s arm, pushing him quickly from the room so they wouldn’t be caught up in Tarn and Tesarus’ talk about respect of teammates. “Don’t worry about Tesarus, he’ll come around when you prove yourself. He’s not fond of new mechs and the old Vos was his best friend.” 

Scope wasn’t worried, he couldn’t care less if they liked him or not, he had a job to do and the faster he did it, the sooner he could go home. /What happened?/

Kaon shook his head, unwilling to talk about the grisly death his friend had met. “So you really don’t know any Neocybex?” He asked, changing topic.

/No./ Scope answered, shaking his head.

“I assumed you would know some, just enough to get by. Not many mechs speak Primal any more.”

/I know,/ he replied bitterly, his first truthful statement in days, /you understand it though./

Kaon nodded, giving the smaller mech a lazy smile, “I’m the communications expert, I know quite a few languages. Mechs think communicating in another language will fool us, it doesn’t work of course.”

The ship’s hallways were vast and immaculately clean, Scope was pleased about that at least. Kaon saw the interest in his companion’s look and answered the unasked, “we have a few mechs on board who keep the ship in order, mostly stragglers picked up from old bases or survivors from battles, we keep them here until we can drop them off at a base where they’re needed.”

/They’re not traitors?/

“Of course not, we exist to deal with traitors.” Kaon laughed, “the mechs on the ship are loyal, just unfortunate. Troop carriers get destroyed or can’t carry all the survivors of disused bases, so we pick them up when we see them and help them out. We’re good mechs to the loyal ones.”

Scope hadn’t expected that, from what he’d read, the DJD were cruel and completely heartless. Looking out for the abandoned mechs was almost kind.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, stopping outside a large door with the nameplate for Vos on the door. Inside the room was sparse but comfortable, a large bed with folded blankets (large enough for a mech of Tesarus’ size), next to it a desk with shelving above it and a wheeled stool. 

“You can make it more like home when you have the time, Tarn is setting up a lab for you too. We haven’t had a scientist before so it’s not ready yet, but we’re going to stop off at a supply base so you can get what you need to work.”

Scope nodded and cleared his subspace, placing the storage boxes on the floor to be unpacked later. There wasn’t much, he didn’t intend to stay long and so hadn’t packed more than the essentials, /I have most of what I need with me, but I could always use some more supplies./

Silence from Kaon. Scope could tell he was on his private communication line, probably with Tarn. 

“Tarn is ready for us now. I hope you’re ready to forget who you were, because Vos is all you’ll be after tonight.”

\---------

Becoming Vos was harder than he’d anticipated. Theoretically it was just a name change, but realistically it meant his life was now nothing but a well rehearsed act. Except, when he thought about it, alone in his room after feigning fatigue to escape his welcome celebration, Vos wasn’t just a name. Vos was a reputation, it didn’t matter who carried the name, the result would always be the same, mechs cowering at the very mention of it. 

Funny how three little letters carried so much weight.

He’d been given time to settle in while the Peaceful Tyranny headed toward their next stop. It was a small mercy, adjusting to life without Rewind was hard enough on its own, but the constant act of being a Decepticon was beyond tiring. He desperately missed his long time partner, without him, everything felt wrong and empty. 

When the mission to implant a mole into the DJD had first been confirmed, Scope had joked about it. The start date had been so far away that it barely mattered, laughing about becoming a super villain was easy. ‘You could be my sidekick, there’s other Decepticon cities you could name yourself after,’ Scope said one night. Rewind had rolled over to face him and frowned, smacking his arm, ‘you’re really bad at pillow talk.’ 

They decided Rewind’s name would be Iacon, home of the Archives. Rewind refused a Decepticon city name, claiming he was the good half of the relationship so should have an Autobot name. Iacon fit the theme well enough.

But as realisation of what he’d be doing set in, the joke was less funny. 

Vos rubbed his optics and sighed. Now he was here, on the Peaceful Tyranny, looking back on his life and wondering how had they ever found this funny. Where was the joke? He could almost hear Rewind behind him, ‘your life’s the joke’. Vos chuckled despite himself. Even his imaginary Rewind insulted him, there really was no escape.

In his berth, wrapped in a mound of blankets, remembering the good times with his conjunx endura, Scope could almost believe Rewind was right and that everything would be ok.

The next day made it harder to believe. 

There was a buzz of excitement in the air when he walked into the control room the next morning. 

“We’re finally here,” Kaon told him, “now we can give you the proper welcome.”

“If you can stomach it,” Tesarus added, recoiling quickly at Tarn’s glare.

Scope nodded, but his legs moved on autopilot as the five of them made their way off the ship and flanked the lone Con. He’d mentally prepared himself for what he’d see and do, but all the preparing in the world wasn’t enough for what he finally witnessed.

The DJD moved fast, well practiced in their attack and grab. Grenade didn’t stand a chance. Like turbohounds on a glitch-rat, the DJD tore the mech to shreds.

The tank screamed for mercy as Kaon transformed and his bloody, battered body was strapped into the hot seat. Vos had been instructed to watch and learn how the others worked. He felt sick, but couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight as Kaon set to work, starting with a low voltage and gradually raising it until Grenade’s eyes glowed with every hit and the smell of burning protoform filled the air. 

‘Grenade deserves this,’ Vos told himself, ‘he hurt a lot of mechs. He deserves this.’ 

Tesarus and Helex waited impatiently for their chance to have another go at the traitor, the two behemoths almost rocking on their feet. Twin grins of pleasure almost ripped their faces in half as they listened and mimicked the screams. “You should have thought about the consequences before you got your unit offlined,” Helex offered. 

Grenade made his plea, but Vos wasn’t listening, it was taking all his concentration just to stand there and not purge his morning cube. 

Grenade’s spark doesn’t explode or fade away like in the movies he’d seen with Rewind. The ones where the death scene has to be drawn out so the hero can die his hero’s death, where his spark flutters and splutters, eventually fading once he’s declared his love to a mech who thought they were unworthy of the hero. Cliche movies that he always complained about but secretly enjoyed. It’s nothing like that in real life. Grenade’s spark just ends. One second it’s bright, then the next it’s dark and the tank’s dead. 

Tarn calls him in for a private meeting when they get back to the ship. It lasts over two hours and Vos is glad when it’s over. There’s only so many times he can go over the same information before getting snappy and irritated. He manages to keep his cool around Tarn, it helps he has to remember all the lies he’s told. 

\-------

He hears Rewind’s voice in his head, soft and reassuring, whispering the same promise over and over, ‘everything will be alright.’

Vos believes it less and less lately, the words are empty and hollow. Overused and worn thin. Worthless. Rewind’s promise sounds more and more like a lie with every new day. How could he know everything would be ok? How could he be so sure the DJD wouldn’t find out his secret and destroy him?

For Rewind, everything would be ok, Scope had made sure of it before he left. No one would touch his nerd or send him on dangerous missions. It was his one stipulation, the one demand he ordered to be written into his contract. He couldn’t be there to protect his lover, couldn’t watch over him and keep him from harm, so he did what little he could to keep him safe. Trusting the Autobots to do that for him was hard. Trusting Rewind not to run off on an ‘adventure’ was harder. 

It didn’t seem worth it now.

Not when he was covered in the energon of his first kill, the thick liquid dripping from his fingertips, splattering the ground in polka dots of pink on black. 

The mech’s name was Whippet. A traitor. Wanted for abandoning his post. 

No one deserved what the DJD did to them, but Whippet definitely didn’t deserve it. Vos saw no wrong in fleeing a battle that couldn’t be won. If he’d been in Whippet’s place, he would have done the same. A single mech against a full Autobot assault was doomed to failure. Whippet knew that and had taken the smartest option, run and survive. Live to fight another day.

Well.... live until caught by the DJD.

The energon was itchy on his plating as it dried and flaked away. Vos could still feel the mechs spark in his hand as he crushed it, tearing the shattered casing from Whippet’s chest and dropping it to the ground.

‘This one is all yours,’ Tarn had said once Whippet had been immobilised, ‘show us what you can do.’

Vos had nodded and stepped forward, forcing himself to put on a show. It was imperative he stayed a part of the DJD, he couldn’t show hesitation. 

Before the war, before everything had changed, he’d learnt from Ratchet. In his desperate need to learn anything and everything, he’d studied anatomy and medicine but found it lacking compared to science. Never did he think those lessons would be twisted to torture. A pinch here and a twist there and Whippet screamed.

If the other’s tortured with brute force, Vos tortured with elegance and grace, turning the mechs own frame against them. 

Tesarus found it boring. Sure the mech screamed and begged, but where was the energon spilling out over the ground, the sounds of a frame being torn apart?

And Whippet did beg, through sobs and gritted teeth the tiny jet begged for mercy. He looked to Tarn, begging him to understand that he’d been in a no win situation and that his escape had protected the Decepticon knowledge he had. Tarn remained unimpressed, “so you would have sold the Autobots, Decepticon secrets in exchange for your life? That is worse than just running away.” 

Whippet shook his head, “no, no! That’s not it at all, but they have those mind reader mechs, the ones with the needles in your head. Please. I wouldn’t have sold the Deception secrets, I am loyal!” 

“You’re far from loyal, Whippet. Continue Vos.”

Whippet looked at Vos with gritted dentals and wide optics. Vos almost stopped when he saw the pain he was causing. Straddling the mech’s chest, Vos gripped the mech’s head in his hands and pressed his sharp thumbs to the mech’s red optics and with a little more force, cracked the glass and destroyed his optics. To an outsider, Vos looked gleeful as he sat back, thumbs stained with glistening energon. In reality, Vos was simply glad he couldn’t see the pain reflected in the mech’s optics. 

When Grenade’s screams turned to whimpers, Vos ended it. 

Back on the Peaceful Tyranny, no amount of showering and scrubbing could make him feel clean. 

‘It’ll be alright,’ he heard Rewind say as he curled up on his berth, frame sore from all the scrubbing. He was still wet and the berth was saturated, the thin sheets - now as wet as him - did little to keep the chill away. ‘It’ll be alright,’ he heard again, this time he punched the pillow and told Rewind to shut up. 

Vos buried his face in his pillow and tried to forget Whippet’s face, trapped in a scream of eternal pain. Rewind was wrong. Nothing was ever going to be ok again, there had been a line and he’d crossed it.

He’d see Whippet’s face for the rest of his life, hollow eyes staring at him from beyond the grave.

\-------

Vos was scared, with every reason to be. 

Inside his gun chamber was the bullet containing all the information he had on the DJD so far. Seven months of deep cover and he barely has anything to show for it. Selfishly, he was happy there wasn’t enough space to fill the memory chip embedded in the bullet, it meant he could send a letter to Rewind and tell him he’s ok. He lied a lot and left out any details of his mission lest Control confiscate it.

It’s worth the risk just to feel closer to Rewind. 

His letter is just a collection of notes and snippets, things he jots down when they pop into his head. The pain of being alone is worst when he climbs into his berth and the spot beside him is empty and writing notes to Rewind helps. Slightly.

_Nerd,  
I saw that movie last week, you know the one. I’m still thinking of trading you in for Archivist. Now there’s a datastick I wouldn’t mind making movies with. He could alphabetise my frame any day._

Writing notes stopped Vos worrying about the future and about what would happen if one of the DJD caught him with the information he had collected. One of them would only need to investigate the perfectly aimed shot for it to seal his fate and put him on the list. It was bad enough for normal traitors and Vos wasn’t sure how it could be worse than what they do already, but if Tarn found a traitor in the DJD, Vos knew it would be much worse. Tarn would find a way.

When the others were distracted, Vos fired, sending the bullet on its way. 

Transforming back to his root mode, Vos jumped off his perch and rejoined Kaon and Helex. The weight that rested on his shoulders was gone with the bullet and Kaon smiled at him as he approached, “you look happy.” 

/How could I not be?/

_Iacon,  
Wish you were here._

\-------

Vos had a habit of staring up at the ceiling when he was deep in thought, as if staring at dull, grey tiles helped organise his thoughts. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about. Kaon noticed it first, watching as Vos leaned back in his chair for the hundredth time that day, head thrown back, stylus tapping on his mask. Completely lost in his thoughts as he stared at the ceiling, focused hard on the cracked corner of one of the tiles. 

“Why do you do that?” Kaon asked one day, “you won’t find an answer on the ceiling.” 

Vos tilted his head to the side, looking quizzically at his friend, /do what?/

“Lean back and stare at the ceiling like it holds all the answers to life’s great mysteries.”

Vos wasn’t aware he did it at all, but after Kaon mentioned it, he caught himself doing it all the time. He tried not to do it, tried staring at the floor or at the door, but it doesn’t feel the same. The ceiling calls to him.

/I think it helps me think,/ Vos chuckled, /either that or I’m just so used to looking up that this is normal for me./

“Oh?” Kaon turned in his chair and crossed his legs, steepling his fingers over his lap in what he considered the stereotypical therapist pose, “what are you thinking about that needs help?”

Vos leaned back again, /I’ve been here for four years today./

“So you have,” Kaon says after a quick check of the date. He picked up the half empty cube on his desk and raised it in a toast, “and he’s to plenty more.”

Vos laughed, /lets hope so./

Really he’d been wondering when in that four years he had started to refer to himself as Vos and not Scope. When did the screams stop bothering him? When had he become so desensitised to the torture that he could do it with a metaphorical smile? When did Kaon become his friend?

Joining the DJD, Vos had no intentions of making friends. Yet, somewhere along the way, Kaon had happened. 

There was something about Kaon that Vos liked and enjoyed being around. At first there had been mutual respect, both knew what it was like to be classed as disposable and treated like slaves. It had been nice to be understood in a way no forged mech could understand. 

After that came weekly chess game. Then suddenly they were spending all their time together. If Rewind wasn’t in his life then Vos would probably have tried taking their friendship to the next level. There was just something about the mech that eased him. He trusted Kaon, more so than the others, and adopted him as his one handler. Allowing him to be the only mech to wield him as a weapon. 

Vos remembered back to when he used to listen to Rewind telling him everything would be ok. Rewind’s voice feels so far away now and it’s hard to remember what he sounded like at all. 

Vos stretched his arms over his head, feigning tiredness, /I’m going to call it a night, I can finish this tomorrow. Night, Kaon./

He left the room quickly, Kaon’s ‘recharge well’ following him down the hallway. Inside his room, Vos slid down the door, head in his hands. 

‘Everything will be ok.’

Except it wasn’t. Where did Vos end and Scope begin? Were they one and the same now? Had Scope died when he’d offlined Whippet? 

He didn’t think about going home much at all anymore, he was happy with the DJD. Dare he say he even enjoyed it? He’d made friends with all the other members, removed the threat of hundreds of Cons and sent back information that would save lives of hundreds of Autobots. The only thing calling him home was Rewind, he missed his mate more than he thought was possible, but if Rewind wasn’t there then he wouldn’t want to leave the DJD.

That alone was a scary thought. 

\------

As soon as Vos heard about Megatron’s defection, Vos knew what was coming. 

The war was over. Supposedly. He knew the DJD would never surrender, they would fight to the death to see the Decepticons win once and for all. Megatron’s word was meaningless now. Megatron - once godly figurehead - was now a traitor, hunted by mechs who had once sworn their existence to him.

Getting the single encrypted ping on his long dormant primary channel was the signal for Vos to make his escape. The message had been a set of coordinates where the Autobots could collect him.

It had been years since he’d called himself an Autobot. The word didn’t even sound right any more. 

Questions flashed through his mind at a million miles an hour and he brushed them away with an angry tut. He had two choices, stay and lose Rewind or leave and give up the good he was doing. The choice was a difficult one, it should have been easy, Rewind was clearly the only choice, yet, still he questioned.

It was two days later when he finally set his spark to go back to the Autobots and set his escape into motion. 

His hand trembled over the command console in the engine room. There was no going back once he entered the codes that would disable the ship. The DJD would hunt him mercilessly, he wasn’t just a traitor, he was the traitor that lived under Tarn’s nose and Vos knew Tarn would never, ever let that go. 

A new coat of paint, new mask, optic colours and name would only go so far to protect him. The rest was up to the Autobots and he lacked faith in them to go the distance. 

Reflex kicked in and the ship’s engines stalled before he even knew he’d pressed the button. Security systems locked the ship down, a mess of programming that would take Kaon days to unravel. By the time the ship was operable again, Vos would be long gone. When Tarn did catch up, he’d find the remains of the shuttle and a recording from Autobot Special Ops stating they had infiltrated the Peaceful Tyranny and captured one of the DJD for questioning. The last message on shuttle’s black box would say they were fired on by a Decepticon war ship. 

Vos sprinted down the corridor towards the docking bay and slipped into a manned escape pod, jettisoning himself into space towards the coordinates.

\-----------

A day later - out of radar range for the Peaceful Tyranny - a small Autobot scout ship picked Vos up, leaving an exploded shuttle behind with the messages. 

“I bet it feels good to be back doesn’t it?” The cheerful mech in the pilot seat shouted over his shoulder.

Vos scowled back. It all felt very surreal, as if the last few days hadn’t happened. A quick scan to see if he was carrying any recording devices or other bugs, by a mech he assumed was a medic and Vos was left alone in what little privacy the scout ship had. Huddling in a corner, Vos pointedly ignored the other crew members. 

They whispered behind his back, thinking they were out of his earshot, ‘he’s probably traumatised’, ‘more like broken’, ‘I don’t think you see the mess the DJD make and not end up fragged in the processor’, ‘reckon he’ll snap and murder us all?’, ‘I didn’t even want this assignment, no sane mech wants to babysit a killer.’ ‘Mech’s a hero.’ ‘Mech’s a killer and a torturer. Ain’t no way that’s a hero.’

Vos offlined his audios and tried not to think of his future. To the mech’s who knew he assignment, he’d always be ‘that’ mech, the one who gutted mechs for fun. The murderer.

His audials stayed off until they docked on the Lost Light and the cargo bay door opened and he finally saw Rewind, standing front and centre of the small collective. Not judgemental, not scared, but standing proud and happy to see his mate return in one piece. 

\----------

Scope woke with a broken scream, fighting at the covers tangled around his frame like a hundred hands gripping his frame and pinning him down. Choking on a sob, he clawed and kicked at them, violently throwing them to the floor. 

Sitting in the middle of the berth, his optics darted around the dark room, searching for the physical horrors of his nightmare. His overheating frame shook and his vents raged in an effort to cool him. 

Just a dream. No, not a dream. A memory?

Scope tried to clear his mind, whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He was safe in his room on the Lost Light. There was no mech at his feet begging him to have mercy, no energon dripping from his hands, no more deaths by his hand.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Scope hugged his knees and offlined his optics. Pressing his knees to his eyes, he vented heavily. ‘It’ll be alright’, he told himself, his cracked voice barely above a whimper. 

Rewind waited until Scope had calmed himself before he approached and crawled closer to his lover, gently reaching for him. Soft and calm, his hands took Scope’s shoulder, stopping when his lover tensed and growled, curling in on himself. /Don’t touch me./

Rewind removed his hands but didn’t move away, /it’s just me, Scope. Nothing bad is going to happen to you here. You know where we are don’t you? We’re on the Autobot ship and you’re safe./

When Scope didn’t respond, Rewind reached for him again, lightly stroking up his upper arms until he felt the rifle relax under his touch. Taking it as a sign of acceptance, Rewind scooted forward and wrapped his arms around his mate, pressing his faceplate to Scope’s forehead in a mimic of a kiss. Scope relaxed into the familiar embrace, Rewind’s EMF intertwined with his own, his spark so close and warm. Slowly his arms wrapped around the datamech, holding him close.

/It’s going to be ok,/ Rewind said softly. 

And for the first time in a long time, Scope believed him.


End file.
